Gavin's Woman (A PSI Sentinel Novella - Darkwater Guardians)
She’s his only obsession.
Gavin Dunbar, liaison between the PSI and the government, is a low-level psychic himself. A man of the present who believes the future is too nebulous, too fluid – it can't be trusted. His reasons are mired deep in a past he has no desire to examine. After all, in his world, having a soul-mate doesn't equate to happily-ever-after.
Tragedy has brought Calea Fontaine to a crossroads and has her reassessing her future without Gavin, the man she loves. A seer from a long line of seers, Calea knows, firsthand, that while Fate might try to guide a person along a path, Free Will has a way of trumping Destiny.
Or does it?
Along the storm ravaged Oregon coast, a predator stalks Calea with an obsession born of a dark ache, an overwhelming need to control and possess at any cost. The only obstacle standing in his way is Gavin Dunbar.
Read an excerpt:
Rain beat hard against the thick plate glass, floor to ceiling windows overlooking a wild and storm tossed Pacific Ocean. As dark as the early February afternoon appeared, the time might as well have been dusk.
A cold, miserable dusk.
The only person in the second floor lounge, except for the hotel’s bartender who occasionally wandered through, Calea Fontaine cradled a fragile, porcelain cup of hot, herbal tea between her chilled hands. Aromatic, floral infused, steam wafted upwards. Heat seeped into her fingers, but the warmth only spread so far.
She shifted in the overstuffed, leather chair, spared a split-second glance for the fire that burned low in the fireplace to her right. Maybe she should have sat closer, could have absorbed a fraction of the heat.
Should haves. Could haves.
Possibilities gone.
Fractured.
Destroyed.
She lifted the teacup to her lips, blew across the surface. Let the flowery, almost spring like fragrance fill her nose before she sat the cup on the small table beside her chair.
Tea had sounded so wonderful such a short time ago.
A lot of things had sounded wonderful. Once. Funny how a few short, terrible months changed things. Changed her perspective. Changed her.
Lightning flashed outside the window. Thunder boomed.
Close.
She shivered then pulled her knees to her chin, braced the heels of her soft soled shoes on the edge of her chair, and wrapped her arms tight around her jean clad legs.
Would she ever be warm again?
A prickle sparked up her spine. An awareness.
That alertness tightened her muscles, caught her breath in her throat. Breathe in, breathe out. Not like she hadn’t known he’d show up here. Eventually. She angled her head to the left, with her cheek against her knee, and swept her gaze towards the wide archway leading to the open hallway overlooking the lobby. To the man who stood with his hands splayed at his hips, his black trench coat open and pushed back.
Rain droplets glistened like diamonds scattered across the dark material covering his wide shoulders. A scowl marred that rugged face, and a storm as dark as the one assaulting the Pacific brewed in his grey eyes.
Gavin Dunbar.
Her one time lover. Her soul-mate.
At least according to their respective grandmothers, who, as world renowned seers of love, were rarely ever mistaken.
But soul-mate didn’t mean easy nor did it mean forever.
She’d learned that one the hard way.
“Why are you here?” Her voice, rarely used these last few days in Oregon, rasped low against her ears.
His scowl deepened. “Looking for you.”
The deep timbre of his speech, even irritated, pulled at her. Inside, her treacherous breath stuttered, squeezed her heart. Damn him.
Not that damning him did any good.
“You found me. Not all that hard since I’m sure Ben told you where to look.” Her boss had some explaining to do about that one, even though she’d known, at some level, he’d tell. She pulled her gaze away from Gavin to stare out the rain splattered windows. “Now go away. I’m meditating, communing with the storm.”
“Right.” He strode into the room, stood a few feet away.
And damn this hyper-awareness. Of him. Of every damn thing about him.
“What are you conjuring now?”
She angled her head to meet his tight gaze. “You’re here, aren’t you?”
His mouth, that full, kissable mouth, firmed.
Had she conjured him? A part of her had known he’d show. Known he wouldn’t be able to stay away. There were issues to be dealt with, words needing to be said. But was she ready? Would she ever be?
“Leave me alone.” Again she tore her gaze away to stare out the windows. “I don’t need you here. I don’t need looking after. And whatever line of bullshit you fed Ben, he doesn’t need you here, either.”
“I didn’t come all this way, in this weather, to simply turn around and leave.”
Neither did he deny the line of bullshit Ben was too sharp to fall for, regardless of anything else. “Your problem. Not mine.”
“Calea –”
“I don’t want you here.”
“We don’t always get what we want.”
“Oh, I’m intimately familiar with that.” She let sarcasm drip from her words, felt him stiffen. Too damn bad. He should’ve stayed away. Could’ve made different choices.
Back to should haves, could haves, and a heart she was no longer willing to risk.